Crutch
by christlan
Summary: The birth of Guerrero's son. My first time writing fan-fiction. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Crutch**

Junior reluctantly walked up the stairs of the estate that was the Old Man's newest base of operations. He still couldn't believe that he agreed to come to the meeting today. He and Guerrero had returned the day before yesterday from a gruelling mission overseas and were scheduled for at least a couple of weeks off. Yet a late call at the beginning of yesterday's all-nighter put to rest any hopes of a vacation or even a small break. Guerrero was rarely one to refuse an assignment and Junior, though exhausted and, truthfully, a little fed up, was never one to disappoint the Old Man. After all, the guy had done so much for him over the years, he was practically like a father to him.

Approaching the room where they were all scheduled to meet, he saw Baptiste and DeMarco standing in the hall, heavily engaged in conversation. They both smiled in greeting when they noticed their colleague arrive.

"Hey, Junior. Didn't think we'd see you here so bright and early." DeMarco raised her brows sarcastically."Thought you'd be hungover at least until this afternoon. Or maybe some time tomorrow. What's the deal?"

"That was the original plan. Just got a little side-tracked along the way." Junior smiled wryly.

"Thought the Old Man wasn't supposed to call you two back for a few weeks. What happened, mate? Couldn't stand being away from it all?"

"Yeah, I wish. He called last minute and didn't exactly leave us much say in the matter. Did he tell you guys anything about the next assignment?"

"Nothing much except that the four of us are going to have to travel to Boston. He never really discusses details over the phone," DeMarco replied.

Junior looked around and checked his watch. "You seen Guerrero around? He said he'd be here."

"He was. Albeit briefly."

"Where'd he go?" Junior turned to Baptiste.

"Couldn't tell you, mate. He received a call.." Baptiste narrowed his eyes, "Wasn't exactly eavesropping but I distinctly heard him say something about a hospital. Left in quite a hurry, without any elaboration."

"Hospital?" Junior frowned in confusion. His thoughts went immediately to Sarah. "Did he say which one? Anything?" he urged.

Baptiste offered an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, mate. He just took off."

Junior started to turn to head back out the way he came.

"Junior, any idea what this is about?" Baptiste called after him.

"No," he lied. "Just want to make sure everything's alright."

Baptiste looked skeptical. "Right."

Junior was halfway down the hall. "Bye, guys. Cover for me?"

He exited the building without event and took out his cell phone as he got into his car. He dialed as he started up the vehicle and left the grounds. He reached Guerrero's voicemail and swore under his breath. He tried again a few minutes with equal luck.

.

"Goddamn it, dude, can't you take a fucking hint?" Guerrero cursed to himself, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket for, what was it now? The third time in the past twenty minutes? He considered turning it off but ultimately decided against it. He definitely wasn't up for any distractions right now but he _was_ waiting for a call. He had tried to reach Eric, Sarah's brother, earlier this morning but had had to leave a message.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting here, alone in this barren white room, waiting. It felt like an eternity. By now, he had convinced himself that this was the worst part. The waiting. Sitting on the sidelines, helpless to intervene, with everything that ever mattered to you placed in the hands of strangers. In his solitude he had begun to wonder just how many times over his career he had put someone else in this predicament. Each time the thought surfaced, he silenced it, unwilling to delve into that territory, knowing that the answer would be alarmingly more than he cared to admit.

_Consequences_. He knew deep down that no one could live the life of those in the fold without one day having to pay the price...but Sarah? It just didn't make any sense. He looked down and noticed with some apprehension just how hard his hands were gripping the armrests. He tilted his head back and propped it against the wall behind his chair, sighing. Maybe he could use a distraction, after all.

Left to his thoughts, he recalled the day's events yet again. How ridiculous, in retrospect, that his biggest regret waking up this morning was that he had stupidly agreed to return to work so soon after that last contract. He had been standing around listening to the exchange of mission anecdotes between Baptiste and DeMarco when he received the call from the hospital. Sarah must have given his number as a contact should something happen to her which, against all odds, simply had to. A head-on car collision; one driver dead, the other critical. Everything that happened between then and the moment he saw her became a blur of anxiety. Standing in the trauma unit, despair quickly took over.

The nurse who lead him there politely retreated back into the bustling traffic around the room. Holding his breath, Guerrero looked down at Sarah's unconscious form. She had an array of cuts and bruises all over her face and arms, the dark already blooming though it had apparently been less than an hour since the accident. He could see the beginning of a wound on her chest that remained hidden under her hospital gown. She was deathly pale, despite the IV lines and intubation. Her eyes staring vacantly ahead, he would have sworn she was already dead if not for the slow steady beep of the ECG. A few seconds later, he noted with growing alarm that she was also hooked up to an EEG. _Head wound_, he thought, forcing himselg to look at her eyes. _Uneven pupils_. He was hit with an entirely unfamiliar feeling of dread.

Fighting a wave of panic, he took her hand in his. Cold to the touch. "Sarah?" his whispered. "Sarah.." he tried again, voice almost breaking, not sure if he should even try to wake her. No response. He knew better than to have expected one but couldn't help but try. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and as he pulled back, he stroked her hair, streaked with dried blood, back behind her ear. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to collect himself.

*Bzzzz*

He jolted in his chair, startled from his thoughts by the sudden vibrating of his phone. Junior. Again. Conflicting emotions warred within him as he stared blankly at the lit screen. _He must know something's up, put two and two together. Probably worried about me. Junior's funny like that sometimes_. Need conquered in his inner struggle and Guerrero answered, staying silent.

Junior was caught off guard when the ringing stopped and he heard nothing but white noise. "...Uh, Guerrero? Are you there?"

Silence still.

"Hello?"

"...bro."

"Guerrero. What's going on? Where are you?" The relief and urgency were palpable in his voice.

"Hospital, dude."

"What happened?"

"It's...it's Sarah. She was, uh, in an accident. Car crash on the highway."

His voice seemed so distant and small. Junior waited a few seconds for him to continue, unease growing by the second. He hadn't been expecting anything like this. "Shit.. is she ok?"

More silence.

Guerrero leaned forward in his chair, his eyes averted downwards, not sure how to continue. It's not like the thought had ever let up, even for a few seconds, since the moment he saw her and, more so, since speaking with her doctors; it's just that having to speak the words aloud made him feel that much closer to accepting the truth. He ran his free hand through his hair. "No. She isn't. Doctors said she's..." A sharp inhalation of breath, "I'm gonna lose her, bro. Think I'm gonna lose them both."

Junior found himself at a loss for words. "Jesus, Guerrero. I..I'm sorry, man. Are you sure? I mean, isn't there at least something they can do for the baby?"

"Yeah. They're uh..doing what they can, should be going into surgery pretty soon.. But he's..." Guerrero sighed and shook his head, "he's almost two months premature and they don't know the extent of the injuries yet. I don't..." His voice trailed off.

"Look, bro. I really can't talk right now. I'll get back to you later."

"Guerrero, wait a second-"

"What?" he barked.

"I'm on my way to the hospital now. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Dude. No," said through clenched teeth.

"Guerrero."

"Junior, I don't exactly need an audience right now, you know? I need to be alone."

He thought about it a second longer and added, "It's not really any of your business anyway."

"My business? Oh come on, man. You two have been together, what, five years? Six? You're practically family, given the amount of time we've spent together. Sarah's -"

"Look dude, I don't need you here making this any harder for me, ok? So please, just leave it alone."

"I just-"

"Go home, Junior," he growled then snapped his phone shut, breathing hard and staring at the offensive device. On impulse, he whipped it across the room as hard as he could. He felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction as he watched it leave a small dent on the wall from the impact.

A few seconds later, adrenaline fading, he realized he had started trembling. Looking listlessly at his phone on the floor across from him, he registered that his emotions were getting out of hand. He rationalized that he wasn't actually mad at Junior, just overwhelmingly frustrated with his situation with no other means of channelling it. He meant what he said though about wanting to be alone. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. Vulnerable. Compromised. He and Junior had been through a lot together, had seen the best and worst of one another over the years. But this? This was too much. He pressed his face into his palms, elbows on his knees, and slid his hands up into his hair to support his head. He remained seated like that a good while, hoping that the shakes would pass.

.

"Sir?" Guerrero lifted his head, a bit startled. He blinked a few times. Had he almost fallen asleep? He couldn't even tell. Everything was starting to have that fog effect again.

"Yeah." He stood up, wavering slightly on his feet. He studied the woman's face, trying to predict what kind of news she was bearing. "How are they?"

"We just wanted to let you know that the surgery is now underway." She met his gaze. "We encountered some delay as there were a few complications with the anesthesia, as was to be expected. You understand that, given the damage she's sustained, the brain injury in particular, combined with her pregnancy... Well, hers was anything but a simple induction. She began to seize both times we attempted to induce her but we have managed to stabilize her. And the infant's readings seem normal as of yet, so that's also good news. We believe that the delivery will go smoothly." At that, she paused. "Do you have any questions?"

It took him a few seconds to respond as it didn't immediately register that she was asking him a question. He had hundreds of questions, in fact, but didn't feel that asking them would accomplish anything. "Not really."

She observed him carefully. He seemed as though he might fall down. "Sir, is there anything you need or someone you'd like us to call for you?"

He shook his head again wearily but his eyes didn't meet hers.

"I know how difficult this must be for you. We are doing everything we possibly can. We will keep you informed, alright?"

"Thanks."

Alone once again, he stood in the middle of the room for a moment, feeling lost. He checked his watch to gain back some sense of orientation. He noted, in disbelief, that over an hour and a half had passed since his conversation with Junior and, amazingly, the man still hadn't shown up. Knowing him as well as he did, he realized it was a small miracle to have gotten the last word in, for once, but on the otherhand, he felt a small pang of disappointment at his absence. _Going soft. Got to buck up_.

Spotting his phone once again out of the corner of his eye, he remembered Sarah's brother. Eric and Guerrero didn't have the greatest history; he couldn't stand the guy, to be honest. He knew though that, differences aside, it was imperative that he be here now, being the only family she had left. Guerrero reasoned that, with some effort, they could temporarily put up with each other for her. He picked up his cell, inspecting its integrity after the abuse inflicted upon it earlier. Ok at a cursory glance. No missed calls though, to his dismay. He had been pretty straight-forward with his message and couldn't understand why the guy hadn't gotten back to him. He knew he received it, Eric was practically glued to his phone. He resolved to try again.

The phone rang against his ear for an unusually long time before the call was answered with a gruff "What the hell do you want?"

"Yeah, nice to talk to you too, Eric."

Silence.

Guerrero cut to the chase. "Did you get my message?"

"I erased it. I told you I didn't want to hear from you. Get Sarah to call me if it's that important."

Guerrero glared ahead and involuntarily clenched the fist of his free hand. _Patience_. "That's just great, dude. 'Cause if you had listened to it, you'd know your sister was in a car crash this morning..that- that she could just _go_ at any time. And you would _be_ here, asshole."

Stunned silence, followed by "Sarah was in an accident?"

Guerrero said nothing.

"Wait, is this a joke? Your idea of a test or something?"

"Wish I could say it was."

"Christ. How bad is she?"

"Pretty bad, dude. She fractured her skull." He paused a second. "They're having trouble keeping the pressure in her head down and ..well, she's lost a lot of blood. The doctors are in surgery now with her."

"Surgery? Do they think that they'll be able to save her?"

Guerrero sighed. "They really didn't sound too optimistic. They'll try but they're hoping to at least save the baby." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, almost wincing as he recalled the last time they had seen the man. Never a supporter of their relationship, Eric became infuriated when he learned about the pregnancy. The encounter left Sarah in tears and it took every ounce of control Guerrero possessed to not break the man's jaw before throwing him out of their house.

"The baby. Of course. So, I gotta know Jack, exactly who's call was that? Theirs or yours?"

Guerrero was taken aback. "What?" He started to pace, "Eric, this isn't about me. There _was_ no call. You don't get it, dude. You didn't hear the prognosis. Or see her- You don't know what you're talking about."

"No, maybe not, Jack. But I do know one thing. I told her all along that if she stuck with you, she'd end up dead. One way or another." His voice became distant, as though he were talking to himself. "I tried to tell her but she just wouldn't listen."

Guerrero looked skyward in desperation. "Fuck you, man. It was a goddamned accident on the highway! Probably a drunk-driver, for all I know. And, before you waste more time taking another cheap shot at me, just think about _her_ for one second. You're her brother, you should be there for her.. in case she comes to." He didn't want it to sound too much like the plea that it was.

After a good five-second pause, "I can't..."

"Dude, come on."

"She's my baby sister and I'll always love her but..I don't think I could bear to see her like that."

Guerrero opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted before he could find a voice to.

"And I don't think I ever want to see _you_ again either. You know, i f you loved her so much, you would've looked out for her. She'd be perfectly fine right now, safe and sound, if she'd never met you." The hitching in his voice gave him away, Eric was on the verge of crying and abruptly ended the call.

Guerrero absorbed the unexpected turn of the conversation in shock and pocketed his phone. He stood in place, staring out at nothing until he realized that he had been holding his breath so long, it started to burn in his chest. He inhaled suddenly and it took his remaining strength to fight off his body's urge to start hyperventilating. He steadied himself against the nearest wall. He was so enraged with everything that had and was transpiring that he found himself looking around for something to destroy. It was that or murder, though he knew neither was truly an option. He had to get out of this suffocating room, even if just a few minutes and clear his mind.

Finding his composure, he stood up and straightened himself out. He left the privacy of the room he had been in all morning and treaded slowly down the corridor. There weren't as many people bustling around as there had been when he arrived but he still tried to pass by them unnoticed. He stopped to gaze at an emergency exit diagram on the wall near the stairwell, as good a distraction as any, when he felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. He was being watched.

His training the farthest thing from his mind at the moment, he pivoted abruptly around to do a visual sweep. He would actually be grateful for a confrontation at this point. At the other end of the hall, a couple of rooms over from his but in the opposite the direction, there was a man seated with a newspaper, staring straight at him and making no effort to be discreet. Guerrero sighed, not sure if he felt annoyed or relieved by the sight of Junior. They maintained eye contact, expressionless, but neither made a move at first.

Guerrero put his hands in his pockets and he crossed the distance to where Junior was. Hovering over him and casting a shadow over his paper, Guerrero crossed his arms over his chest. "Thought you were supposed to go home, Junior." He cocked an eyebrow, inciting a response.

"Yeah, well. Couldn't help but think of what a good time you would be having here all by yourself." He tilted his head a tad defiantly and offered a faint smile before opting to stand.

"And what, bro? You've just been sitting out here in the hall the whole time?"

"Well, you did make it clear enough on the phone that you, um, wanted to be alone." Junior looked almost apologetic.

"Right. So that explains why you've been sitting there for almost two hours, spying on me or whatever the hell it is you think you're doing. What's the matter with you, dude?" He frowned, eyebrows knitted.

"Spying?" Junior half-heartedly laughed and rolled his eyes. "Really, Guerrero. If that wasn't so utterly ridiculous, I'd be hurt that you'd think so little of me."

Guerrero glared back at him, still seemingly braced for a fight. Junior sighed. He really didn't want things to get physical even if that was their usual way of working out their disagreements. Junior could see that the smaller man was already dead on feet, exhausted and swaying slightly. He was dark under the eyes and his hair was unusually disheveled, an indication that he must have run his hands through it over and over, an unconscientious response to the stress he was under.

"Look, Guerrero. I didn't want to upset you by.." he gestured vaguely with his hand, "intruding. I just thought that I should be here in case, you know, you needed me to." Junior looked down at him sincerely.

After a few seconds, Guerrero's expressioned softened and his posture became less tense. He felt awkward and looked down at the floor.

Sensing all hostility drained from his friend, Junior gently inquired, "How're you holding up?"

"Not so great, dude. Was going a bit stir crazy in there." He indicated his room with a tilt of his head.

"Want to take a walk? It might do us both some good," Junior stretched his arms to emphasize his point.

"Can't, bro. I have to stay here... She's being operated on and I want to be available whenever they have news."

"How is she doing?"

Guerrero inhaled, as if to speak but decided against it, looking around. He met his friend's eyes, "Don't really want to talk about it out here." Not exactly eager to return so soon but figuring it might not be so bad with company, he walked past Junior towards the waiting room. Junior gathered his backpack and paper and followed, accepting the invitation for what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

Guerrero was standing with his back to him, looking out the window. "So, how'd you find out anyway? I mean, I know I missed the meeting earlier but that could've been for any reason."

"Let's just say that we have a mutual friend with...above-average hearing." Junior grimaced at how lamely that came out.

Guerrero turned his head to look over his shoulder, slightly troubled. "Who?" He thought about it for a second. "Baptiste?"

"Yeah."

"You serious? Dude, I was all the way down the hall. Could've sworn I was out of range." _And that I was quiet about it_. His expression clouded.

"Well, we both know from experience that Baptiste isn't exactly someone to underestimate."

Guerrero frowned and turned to face Junior. "What did you tell him?"

The taller man shook his head, "Nothing. Just said I wanted to check on you and that was it. I left."

Guerrero just stared back at him, obviously running several scenarios through his mind.

"Look, if he had heard anything else, he would have told me. And I swear I didn't say anything more to him." Junior paused. "Besides, I don't understand why you distrust him so much. He actually seemed kinda concerned about you, God forbid."

"Concerned?" Guerrero nodded his head quickly in sarcasm, eyes narrowed. "The guy's a psychopath."

Junior scoffed. "Do you now anyone in the fold who _isn't_?"

No answer. Guerrero continued to stare at him.

"Anyway." Junior sighed. "When you didn't answer your phone," he looked at the smaller man pointedly, "I called the hospitals one by one asking if they had admitted Sarah. 'Cause I figured that for you to just drop everything like that it must have been something to do with her. Never thought it'd be anything this serious though." He paused there, hoping Guerrero would pick up on his cue.

If he understood the hint, he gave no indication.

Junior tried a more direct approach, "What happened out there?"

Guerrero sighed, stalling a moment before having to go through the arduous task of explaining his girlfriend's injuries again. Unlike the first person he had to go over it with though, Junior's concern was at least genuine enough to have brought him here. He took a seat and crossed his legs, supporting his head with the arm that was propped against the armrest.

"It was on the 40. Her car turned over somehow. The EMT's and the fire department had a hell of time getting her out of it, from what I hear." He took a deep breath and braced himself for the rest. "Apparently, she had a sheet of metal or something go through her chest into one of her lungs. I, uh, saw part of the wound earlier. She's got a few broken bones." He looked up at Junior, still standing at a distance from him, to make sure he had his attention. "She hit the side of her head hard enough to fracture her skull. CAT-Scan showed a," he concentrated a fraction of a second to get it right, " subdural hematoma. It means her brain's hemorrhaging."  
He reflected a moment and added,"You should have seen her eyes, bro."

Junior pressed his mouth into a firm line, signalling to his friend that he understood the gravity of his words.

"Anyway, they stopped the bleeding in her chest and they're working on the intracranial pressure. Basically, if there's too much swelling in the brain, the blood supply can't really get to it. Could kill her and the baby, so that was their priority... She had a few seizures before they got her stabilized. Or relatively stabilized," he corrected himself.

"Has there been any, uh," Junior wasn't sure how to put it, "improvement since we spoke earlier?"

Guerrero shook his head. "Not as far as I know. Like I said, they don't expect her to pull through, between the two surgeries and all the blood loss. And, if she does, the chances of her not being in a coma or seriously impaired for the rest of her life are... very low."

Junior took the seat diagonal from where Guerrero was. He had been hoping all along that his friend had exaggerated a little on the phone earlier, the way he had a tendency to always assume and prepare for the worst possible outcome for every situation. Or maybe he, himself, was a little in denial. He looked back at Guerrero, distracted by his leg steadily twitching. He had been at it the whole time he was seated but seemed completely unaware of it. That was saying a lot for the man who guarded his emotions better than anyone else he knew and never gave anything away.

"They only let me see her a few minutes...She was," Guerrero's voice was subdued, his breathing a little more forced. "She looked like a corpse, Junior." He shook his head, as if to clear the image from his mind. He scoffed weakly, "It's almost funny. We see and _do_ a lot of terrible things in this line of work, but nothing really prepares you for the day it happens to you. The day it's someone you care about."

Junior silently agreed although he had to admit that didn't really have any personal experience in the area. "What'd they say about the kid?"

"Seems ok, so far. They were worried about his blood and oxygen supply and that he may have been, uh, dislodged or something like that. But they said the cesarean should go well."

"At least that's something." Junior regretted not having anything useful to say.

"Yeah. If you put aside all the risks associated with preterm births. Seriously, dude, they went over a list _this_ long," he held his hands apart almost the length of his armspan, "of problems to possibly expect at birth and later on."

"He could turn out fine, you never know."

"That's another thing. The _not knowing_. Sitting around and waiting. It's killing me."

"I know."

There was a prolonged silence between them. Junior wanted to change the subject for a less depressing one but nothing really appropriate came to mind. "Did you contact her family?"

Guerrero shot him what he hoped to be a warning look. "She doesn't have any."

Junior considered it a moment. "I thought she had a brother," Junior squinted in concentration, "I can't remember his name...Rick? I met him once... And you two hate each other. Ring any bells?"

"The guy's a douche," Guerrero muttered.

Junior leaned back in his seat. "Be that as it may and far be if for me to tell you what to do, but don't you think he should know? Being her brother and all?"

Guerrero recognized the tone as one his friend often used when toying with people. He glared at him.

After a few seconds, Junior went on, "No? Maybe-"

"He's _not_ coming," Guerrero growled suddenly, surprising Junior. "I spoke with him earlier."

Junior inclined his head, raising his eyebrows to encourage him to continue.

Guerrero fidgeted a bit with his sleeve before going on, jaw clenched. "I told him what happened... He told me that everything is my fault. I should have looked out for her... and so on. Guy couldn't be bothered to even show up for his own _sister_, dude."

"Wow."

"So, it's like I said. No family left." Guerrero's matter-of-fact tone contradicted his uneven breathing. He was practically fuming. "Happy now?"

Junior didn't intend to make things worse, he just got a bit carried away. "Not really, Guerrero. I'm sorry, man. I mean it."

Guerrero shrugged it off, "Doesn't matter anyway."

.

The next few minutes passed. Junior decided to keep his mouth shut to avoid saying anything else that might start some trouble. He reasoned that if there was anything that Guerrero wanted to discuss, he'd bring it up himself. It took a while but he felt relieved when his friend finally did speak up.

"Sarah and I, we had this argument last night. She was mad that I agreed to take on a new contract so soon after the last one. Long story short, we parted on good terms and everything but... it's occurred to me a number of times since the accident that if I had been with her this morning, where I _should_ have been, none of this would have happened."

"Guerrero, there was no way you could have seen that coming."

"Yeah, dude. I _know_." He turned away. "Just couldn't help but think that if I had listened to her, _for once_-" He shook his head.

"Everyone feels guilty and finds a way to blame themself when things like this happen. It's a normal part of grieving," Junior didn't want to get in too over his head with the psychology stuff. "In your case, it's probably just her good-for-nothing brother messing with your head."

"Maybe," he considered it briefly. "Nevermind, bro. Just forget it."

Sensing that they were both due for a distraction, Junior leaned forward to slap Guerrero on the arm. "Anything I can get you? Coffee? Food? You really look like you could use some, you know."

Guerrero smirked weakly. "Doubt I could keep anything down if I tried. And coffee? Dude, you've _got_ to kidding me. You don't think that I'm shaking enough as it is?"

The man had a point. Junior shrugged. "Some water, maybe?" He didn't want to seem desperate to move but he was honestly almost as sick of waiting as Guerrero was.

"Dude, could you stop worrying about me? I'm fine. But if _you_ want to go, by all means, _go_. It's not like you're under obligation to stay," Guerrero said almost non-chalantly while checking his watch, unaware of how seriously he was being taken.

Junior reflected a moment before answering. "_Right_. And you think I could just leave you here like that?" He seemed almost disgusted by the idea.

Guerrero slowly turned to face his friend, eyebrows raised in what looked like confusion. He sighed, "Considering that her own flesh-and-blood brother refused to even show... yeah, I think I'd understand if you had other," he gestured around the room, "slightly less depressing, places to be than _here_, dude. She's not even part of your family."

"No, she isn't... But I'm not exactly here for _her_, Jack." Junior felt really awkward having to spell it out but Guerrero obviously wasn't up to making the connections on his own for the moment.

Guerrero almost started at the sound of his name. He tried to read his friend's face. Junior wasn't usually one for heart-to-hearts, most definitely not with him, but the man _had_ become his closest friend over the years, the only person he could say he honestly trusted. They just never really discussed _that_ kind of thing, perhaps because there had never been any need to. Guerrero finally nodded in understanding, somewhat at a loss for words under the weight of what had been said and everything else that no longer needed to be. "Don't really know what to say to that, Junior," he said truthfully.

Junior forced a half-hearted smiled, shook his head and shrugged, emphatically. "You don't have to _say_ anything."

Guerrero was silent again for a moment, pondering the strange friendship they shared. "Thanks, bro."

.

The next twenty or so minutes went by in relative silence, what with everything out in the open. Guerrero was resting his head against the wall behind his chair. Junior tried to stay quiet to allow his friend to gather his thoughts in peace. He returned unenthusiastically to his newspaper and went over the less interesting articles he had skipped the first time around. The minutes crawled by. He wondered idly how Guerrero could have spent the last few hours in here without completely losing it.

A soft knock on the door abruptly startled them both into alertness. A moment later, the door opened and two people, a man and a woman, stepped into the room. Guerrero recognized them as the obstetrician and the trauma doctor he had spoken with earlier. As expected (but nonetheless to his dismay), they both wore carefully blank expressions.

"This does not bode well," Guerrero muttered under his breath before forcing himself to his feet. Eyes fixed on the ground, he spoke up a little louder, "Bro?"

Junior, still seated, looked up at him, unsettled about what was about to transpire.

"I think now would be a good time for you to fetch that food you were talking about earlier."

Junior stood up, hesitation obvious in his expression as he gazed down at his friend. He was about to voice his objection when Guerrero looked up him imploringly. Junior questioned, "You sure?"

Guerrero nodded and had to look away. He was outwardly calm but Junior was so in tune with his body language that he noticed the change in his breathing, however imperceptible.

"Alright. I'll be back in a little while." He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he spoke and let it linger for a second.

Guerrero watched without expression as Junior left the room. The mild relief he felt was quickly shadowed by his growing distress. He felt unsteady on his feet but didn't really care anymore if it showed. It was all becoming so unimportant. He crossed his arms, bracing himself for whatever the doctors had to say.


	3. Chapter 3

Junior stepped out into the hospital wing with reservations. He grew restless standing in place and without realizing it, he began to pace, lost in thought.

He reminisced about how long he'd known Guerrero, his impassive and immovable colleague. He remembered back when they had been introduced by the Old Man, just barely out of their teens. Guerrero had already been with the fold for a while before Junior was taken in but they had become fast friends. Though he never admitted it, Junior had looked up to him in the early years. Training and experience eventually made them equals, with admittedly different skill-sets, but there was just something about Guerrero that Junior could never quite acheive in himself. That cool detachment he had about him, the fact nothing ever seemed to get to him.

Junior stopped to lean against a window and thought back to numerous situations they had been in, where very real threats were made against them; others where they had followed some very questionable orders; times where they had lost close friends on the job. Almost never a serious reaction from the man, which was sometimes disturbing even to Junior. He knew that this had to be more of a front than anything but he was amazed at how Guerrero could keep it up so well. He wondered if he did secretly deal with the same inner-torment as everyone else but just bottled it up, burying it. Or maybe he really was _that_ selective about what mattered to him, what he chose to care about.

The clicking of the door handle caught his attention and he watched, from a distance, as the two surgeons silently left the room. As they walked in his direction, they began to converse but too quietly for Junior to make any of it out. Nearing the stairwell near where he was standing, they stopped a moment to speak with him.

"Are you a friend of the family?" the woman inquired gently.

"You could say that."

The doctors introduced themselves politely and shook hands with him. The obstetrician was in her mid-thirties and the trauma doctor was much older, probably in his late fifties. They both looked drained and exhausted.

Junior remained polite but found himself too impatient for niceties at the moment. "How did it go?"

Doubt shadowed the woman's face as she glanced around. "Would you like to have a seat?"

Junior was reminded that he was still out in the hall. "No, I'm ok."

The man spoke up. "Well son, I wish we could say that everything went well but I'm afraid we have some bad news. On the bright side, the infant is doing remarkably well. Much better than expected, to be honest." The man paused. "We couldn't save the mother, however. The outlook was grave from the start given the severity of her injuries but we _had_ hoped..."

"We were actually a team of four doctors with her, collaberating, since this was such an unusual and complicated case. With combined effort, we did everything possible for her but it was simply too much for her body to take." She paused a second, "It's a miracle in itself that the baby wasn't harmed. It's rare that they survive their mothers in accidents like this."

Junior nodded, silently taking in the news.

They gave him a moment before continuing. The obstetrician spoke, "Sir, may I ask a personal question?"

Junior met the woman's eyes but said nothing, not sure if he trusted where this was going.

She continued, despite the lack of his consent. "Do you know the father well?"

"Well enough. Why?" Junior crossed his arms without realizing it.

The other doctor, eyeing Junior's defensive posture, took his colleague's place. "Well, we'd like to suggest that someone check up on him in the upcoming weeks, months even. In this line of work, I've seen what grief can do to people more times than I care to think about. Sometimes a person may not initially accept or respond to a loss of this toll. The pain can manifest itself later on in worse forms, unpredictable or sometimes even self-destructive in some cases." He raised his eyebrows for emphasis. "And the baby probably won't make the situation any easier for him."

Junior looked between them with a frown, hoping they weren't hinting at anything else.

The obstetrician went on. "The fact is, he may need some help, from those closest to him. The hospital has some resources thay may be useful for new parents... or even therapy, for persons in similar situations."

Junior stared back at them, perplexed. _Therapy_? Everything they just said was so incongruous with what he knew of Guerrero, it might have been funny under different circumstances. On the otherhand, he reasoned that the doctors undoubtedly had more first-hand experience with the aftermath of crises like this one.

"I'll keep an eye on him. Make sure he's alright. And thank you, for everything." Junior extended his hand.

The man nodded and grasped his hand. The woman did the same. "Sorry for your loss."

.

_Gone_.

Guerrero thought he had been better prepared for this. After all, he _had_ been warned all along that things would probably end this way (or potentially worse), and spent much of the day bracing himself and getting his infallible barriers up. It was therefore that much more difficult for him to understand why, despite all this, it was was suddenly hurting everywhere. He knew he hadn't really let himself give in to any false hope, that was something he had long ago learned to avoid doing.

His chest ached under the weight of the loss and it hurt to breathe. The room started to spin under him, the effect disorienting but he couldn't will himself to move yet. He felt almost paralyzed, wavering in place while he resisted the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Sarah was gone. Just like that. He never imagined that she would go before he did. They had been _so_ careful with everything. Always covering their tracks; never trusting anyone. From the beginning, he had ensured that all the chances were in their favor in terms of safety and security. _Paranoid_, she used to joke. It was almost mind-boggling to accept that he ultimately lost her to something so common, mundane even, as a car accident.

Still unsteady on his feet, he tried to shift his weight for better balance. Instead, he was hit full-force with a wave of dizziness from the movement. He stepped back to lean against a wall for support and closed his eyes to center himself. He had no idea what it felt like to faint but he already had his share of new experiences for the day. The light-headnedness more or less passed, he started to feel nauseous. He slowly turned his head to look across the room at the door to his right. He held his gaze there, uncertain of how to let himself act or feel.

Creeping in with his grief, there was also a considerable element of fear pulling at him. The unaddressed question of just _how_ he was supposed to do this. Raising a child on his own had never been part of the plan. He honestly had no idea where to start. He wondered if he could realistically expect to continue working without putting his son in jeopardy. Another second of reflection reminded him that there was still a small chance that the baby might not even survive at all.

He sighed. He wasn't really prepared for _any_ of this.

.

Junior remained at the window what he judged to be an appropriate amount of time before deciding to check on his friend. Walking back down the corridor, Junior wasn't sure of what kind of scene awaited him. He stopped in front of the door and knocked softly. No answer. After a few seconds of hesitation, he entered just the same.

Closing the door behind him, he did a quick sweep of the room and initially thought that Guerrero had somehow managed to leave without him noticing. It took him a moment longer to locate him, seated on the floor to his left, back against the wall as though he had just let himself drop there. His knees were loosely bent in front of him with his arms draped over them. He had his head cocked slightly back and seemed almost entranced. If Guerrero noticed his return, he didn't let on.

"Guerrero?"

Junior crouched down to his level. Guerrero turned his head to meet his friend's gaze, looking as forlorn as Junior would ever see him. His eyes, glazed with a purple hue to them, were almost haunting. Junior felt unsettled even though he had half-expected this. No emotional breakdown, no fit of rage, no tears. He looked around the room: no evidence of outward violence either. He wondered if this was Guerrero going into shock.

"I spoke with the doctors outside. They, uh, told me what happened. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, man."

His friend nodded solemnly but didn't respond.

"Guerrero?" He reached out to touch his arm.

The smaller man flinched unexpectedly at the contact, as if burned. "Don't," he growled.

Junior almost lost his balance, startled from the sudden movement. Taking his chances, he sat himself on the carpet next to his friend, so they were almost shoulder to shoulder. Junior knew it was still an invasion of personal space but calculated that he'd probably get away with it. Guerrero didn't appear to mind it as much.

They sat there in silence.

.

The discomfort from sitting cross-legged on the hard floor gradually became hard to ignore. Repeatedly distracted from his train of thought, Junior decided to return his attention to Guerrero. He noticed that his friend's fingers, hands still over his knees in front of him, were twitching every now and again. His body was incredibly tense despite his seemingly aloof posture. He was staring ahead, almost unblinking, with such intensity that Junior sensed an explosion waiting in the periphery.

If that was indeed the case, Junior decided that he'd rather be present for it than have it surface at a later time when Guerrero was on his own. Or even worse, with an unsuspecting third party. As he spoke, he had the distinct impression of playing with fire. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Guerrero started and looked sideways at him, dark eyes behind his bangs still oddly unnerving. It took a second for Junior to place Guerrero's glare and tone as ones usually reserved for his infamous interrogations. "Talk about what?"

Junior didn't offer a reply, only stared back at his friend. He wasn't sure if it was necessarily a _good_ thing, but he didn't think Guerrero was aware of his demeanor.

"This whole thing just.. _sucks_, bro. And talking about it won't change a god-damned thing."

"You might feel better. You know, get a load off your chest."

"_'Feel better'_? Seriously, Junior, what do you want from me?" Guerrero paused, fuming. "You want me to sit here and whine about how life's not fair?" He shook his head with contempt. "How some pregnant broad can get herself impaled on the highway and lose _everything_ in the span of a few seconds while all the low-lives out there are free to roam."

Junior took a breath to speak but wasn't given the time.

"_Or_, how 'bout this- two assassins. Take, for example," he shrugged and motioned with his hand, "you and me. _Unscathed_. In perfect health in spite of _everything_ we've been up against over the years. What for? The sole purpose of killing more people." He faced Junior squarely. "And you know what? That's life. Plain and simple."

Junior resisted the urge to get defensive. "You know I hate to have to interrupt a perfectly good tirade as much as the next guy but, uh, while that may still be _my_ only 'purpose' in life, as you put it, you _do_ realize how lucky you are to have been given another?"

Guerrero froze. After a few seconds of deliberating, he sighed and looked almost apologetic.

Junior went on. "They said they think he's gonna be alright."

Guerrero glanced at his lap. "Yeah. Been examining him and running all sorts of tests. They're surprised by the how good the results have come back."

Somehow Junior didn't sense enough enthusiasm, even given the circumstances, from his friend as he spoke. "But?" He inclined his head.

"But what?" Guerrero cocked an eyebrow.

"Is there something else? I don't know, you just don't seem all that...um..." Junior found himself searching for a tactful word.

"Relieved?" Guerrero offered, nodding quickly.

Junior felt a little guilty, "For lack of a better word."

"Well..just 'cause he's probably gonna be ok, doesn't necessarily mean _we'll be_, you know?" He looked skyward. "Sure this doesn't come as much of a shocker, dude, but I'm not exactly an expert on babies. Or being a father." He pressed his lips into a straight line. "In hindsight, I admit that having Sarah do most of the planning probably wasn't the best strategy. Guess I just don't know how I'm gonna pull this off by myself, bro."

"Why are you so convinced you have to do it alone?"

Guerrero looked skeptically back at Junior, waiting for him to elaborate.

His friend still had that sincere look to him that he'd had all day, now with a hint of confusion. "What?"

Guerrero continued to stare, eyebrows raised. "Dude. Seriously."

"I'm just _saying_. It might be safer, you should at least think about it."

Guerrero snorted. _Unbelievable_. "Honestly bro, I don't know how to tell you this, and... while I appreciate the, uh, sentiment, that would be like the _ultimate_ recipe for disaster."

It took a few seconds for Junior to catch up. He started to chuckle quietly and he shook his head. "Look Guerrero, you _know_ I'd be willing to help out in any way I can but... I kind of meant, you know, someone in your family. Or something." He beamed.

Guerrero looked away, trying to conceal a hint of a smirk. "Right." Junior noted some color returning to his face. "Just that, knowing _you,_ bro, it's exactly the ridiculous kind of thing I'd expect you to say. You've got to admit." Guerrero glanced back at him after a moment. "Anyway, I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"You always do."

.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Guerrero leaned forward to peer down into the incubator. He tried hard to concentrate on what the nurse was saying as she explained how to pick up and handle an infant. Junior watched his friend from several feet away with mild amusement. To him, it looked as though Guerrero was anticipating an ambush. Watching the scene unfold around him, he was satisfied with his decision to stick around (despite his friend's assurance that he didn't _have_ to.)

The nurse opened the top and gently lifted the new-born to place him in his father's arms. She adjusted his hold and ensured the baby was well-supported before giving him some space, to supervise from a distance.

Guerrero gazed down at the baby with a pained expression. Familiar blue eyes stared back up at him. He felt his trip-wire fight-or-flight tension slowly melting away. The moment was surreal, leaving him feeling a little euphoric even with the still-settling heartache. "Hey dude," he whispered, brushing the baby's cheek with his thumb.

Junior observed Guerrero, gentle and strangely unsure of himself. He was brought back some twenty years, remembering his friend as the kid he once was and recalling himself in that era as well. The memories stood in sharp contrast with the reality before him. He began to muse over the damage that time had done to them, how much they had changed and been hardened over the years. His best friend was suddenly thrust into fatherhood under some of the worst circumstances imaginable yet Junior still found himself secretly happy for him. He knew Guerrero had been slowly losing his humanity for a long time now with the life they led, and he needed something to keep him grounded. That tiny spark of life cradled in his arms had so much potential to change his world. Junior saw himself following down the same path and wondered if he'd ever be so lucky as to be granted a second chance, an 'out'.

Junior was quickly pulled from his contemplation when he realized he was also being spoken to. Guerrero was watching him with a bit of a puzzled look. Not much in the mood for philosophy anyway, Junior pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and approached them. Getting a good look at his friend's son for the first time, he was surprised by how nervous he suddenly felt.

"You alright, bro?" Guerrero asked.

"Fine. You?"

Guerrero nodded once but saw that Junior wasn't paying attention, too focused on the baby. He turned slightly, making it easier for his friend to see.

"Wow." Junior reached out tentatively to touch the infant's hand with a finger, almost afraid to touch anywhere else for fear of breaking him, he was so tiny. "What are you going to call him?"

"Alex... It was one of the few names we could agree on."

Junior nodded. His finger trailed from the back of Alex's hand to his palm and after a second, the baby wrapped his fingers around Junior's and held it there. Junior smiled broadly.

"Huh. He took to you pretty quick." Guerrero couldn't help but smile.

"It must be in his blood."

Guerrero rolled his eyes. "Very funny, dude."

The two assassins stood there coddling the new-born until the nurse, who had been silently monitoring from the sidelines while continuing her work, signaled that Alex should be returned to his incubator. She found the scene so adorable, she almost felt guilty to interrupt it.

"Alright kid, you're gonna have to let up on your Uncle Mike. He needs his hand back in one piece and you need to get some rest."

Junior gently pulled away from the baby's grip. He watched Guerrero hand Alex over to the nurse who placed him back in his incubator. Junior was somewhat touched but decided not to get too emotional over his new title of uncle and the notion of trust it conveyed. He figured that his friend was probably unaware he'd even said it, like the whole 'bro' thing.

.

"Listen Guerrero, I'm gonna get going. I've never been too good with hospitals. If you want though, we could get something to eat and I could bring you back here after."

"Actually, I'm going to stay here a bit longer. Got a lot to think about and I kind of need some time to myself, bro."

"Whatever you say. You sure you're going to be alright?"

Guerrero nodded. "Hardest part's over."

Junior wasn't so convinced it was, but he didn't want his concern to become suffocating. "Anything you need, don't be shy." He was turning to leave.

"Junior."

The taller man turned back.

"I, uh, just wanted to say that..." Guerrero ran a hand through his hair, feeling as uncomfortable as he looked, "that things might have gone a lot worse if you hadn't been here today. I mean it, dude."

Junior narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You've always had my back." He nodded towards Alex. "Besides, I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Guerrero stared at him levelly. "Thanks, bro."


End file.
